


Talk to Me

by Seraph_Novak



Series: Tyrus One-Shots [54]
Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Heart-to-Heart, Hopeful Ending, M/M, One Shot, Secret Crush, Self-Acceptance, Single Parents, Sweet, Tyrus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 17:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraph_Novak/pseuds/Seraph_Novak
Summary: TJ confides in his mom about Cyrus (based on the recent Andi Mack texts where Cyrus talks about meeting TJ's mom).





	Talk to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I literally just wrote this in one sitting... I've only proofread it once, so there might be a few mistakes in there. But it's 1 in the morning, so I'm gonna go to bed now. If you notice any errors, don't be afraid to point them out! I'm too tired to tell if this fic is half-decent, so please let me know what you think ;) 
> 
> As always, all comments and kudos are very much appreciated ♥
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://seraph-novak.tumblr.com)

Coming home is like slipping into his own skin again. As soon as he steps through the front door, he’s greeted by a cloud of chicken-scented steam wafting from the kitchen, where his mom is busy dicing onions and humming to an old jazz song playing on the radio. Just the sight of her is enough to put him at ease; he can already feel his anxiety-riddled thoughts retreating to the back of his mind as he joins her at the kitchen counter, instinctively picking up a clean knife and starting to slice the carrots she’s laid out for him.

“You’re home late,” his mom muses, flicking him a brief, questioning smile. “Hanging out with friends again?”

TJ shrugs. He isn’t exactly sure where Kira falls on the friend spectrum, given the fact that all they really have in common is basketball, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s been hanging out with her a lot lately. That’s what Cyrus seems to think, anyway. Ever since their conversation in the park a few days ago, he hasn’t been able to shake off the feeling that something has changed between him and Cyrus, and just thinking about it is enough to give him a stomachache. 

“Alright,” his mom says, thankfully taking the hint. She tucks a strand of dirty-blonde hair behind her ear and passes him a bowl of potatoes to peel. “There was a boy here to see you, by the way. Didn’t give me his name though.”

All at once, TJ’s brain short-circuits, his fingers almost snagging on the peeler as he slams it down on the counter. His hands are shaking as he turns to his mom, a bright blush staining his cheeks. Just the mere possibility of Cyrus coming to his house to see him is enough to make him giddy with newfound hope for the future of their relationship.

“What did he look like?” he asks, not even trying to mask the eagerness in his voice.

His mom huffs a bemused laugh. “Um… Dark hair, dark eyes? A little on the awkward side, but in a sweet way.” She chuckles. “He accidentally told me to ‘get home safe’. Poor kid turned redder than a tomato.” 

TJ grins, absently rubbing the back of his neck as the scenes plays perfectly in his mind. “That definitely sounds like Cyrus,” he says dreamily.

“Wait a second!” His mom throws her hands in the air. “I didn’t realise I’d been talking to the famous _Cyrus Goodman_.”

“Mom…”

“How does he know where we live, pray tell?”

She’s got her hands on her hips, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as she waits for him to explain. It’s such a typical, motherly sight, and TJ can feel his chest flooding with warmth, despite the blush creeping up his neck. His mom is such a dork, and he loves her for it.

“He might’ve come over a couple times,” he mumbles.

“Might’ve, or has?”

“ _Has_ , okay?”

“And why wasn’t I made aware of this?”

“Because I didn’t want you to attack him with a bunch of weird, overly-personal questions?”

His mom gasps, feigning offense as she slaps a hand over her heart. “I would never!”

“Sure.” TJ rolls his eyes.

“And what is _that_ supposed to mean, young man?”

“It means I know you. And I know that you love to wiggle your way into my friends’ lives and make it your personal mission to not let them get bored of me and ditch me, like everyone else does.”

At that, his mom winces slightly, her features softening with a thin layer of guilt. “Oh, baby… That’s not true.”

“No point pretending otherwise.”

“You have friends.”

“I have _Cyrus_.”

“Is that who you were hanging out with today?”

TJ grits his teeth, those anxiety-riddled thoughts burrowing their way back to the surface of his mind. If he could have it his way, he’d hang out with Cyrus every day for the rest of his life. But lately, there seems to be an invisible wedge between them, keeping them apart at all times. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think they’d had some kind of argument. But, other than the awkward mishap on costume day, which Cyrus has insisted he’s fine about, TJ can’t recall any recent bumps in their relationship.

“No,” he says, pointedly focussing on the potato in his hand. “That was Kira. She’s just some girl I met a few weeks ago.”

His mom pauses, her interest freshly perked. “A girl, huh?”

“Don’t even go there.”

“What? I was just –”

“It isn’t like that, okay? We’re just friends!” He tosses the peeler back into the bowl, tearing a hand through his hair with a grunt of frustration. “Why does everyone automatically assume we’re a couple or something? Like a guy and a girl can’t be friends without there being some weird, ulterior motive…”

“Woah, there,” his mom says, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Can I have my head back, please?”

TJ deflates. “Sorry.”

“Who else assumed you were a couple, anyway?”

“Cyrus.”

“Ah…”

“He keeps telling me he’s happy for me and stuff, like Kira and I are in a serious relationship or something.” He shudders. “It’s like he’s not hearing me when I tell him we’re just friends.”

His mom nods, her hands neatly folded on the counter. She’s regarding him with narrowed eyes, her lips slightly pursed, and TJ can tell she’s about to say something deep and profound. His mom always gets this strange, faraway look on her face whenever they’re about to have a ‘big talk’. 

“Why do you not want Cyrus to think you’re a couple so badly?” she asks, sounding genuinely intrigued.

TJ shrugs impatiently. “Because we’re not?”

“Is that really the only reason?”

“I dunno…”

“C’mon, baby. Don’t think I can’t read you like a book.”

It’s the look in her eyes that finally breaks him, the gentle, imploring look that’s begging him to open up and be honest with her. No one can chip away at his walls like his mom can. Not even Cyrus, and that’s saying something.

“Everything’s so confusing,” he says, relenting with a sigh. He pushes the bowl of potatoes away and turns to face his mom, letting her know he’s about to dive into some pretty big stuff. “Ever since I started hanging out with Kira, things with Cyrus have been… _off_. At first I thought it had something to do with the bad blood between Kira and Buffy – that’s Cyrus’ best friend – but now I’m thinking maybe it’s something different.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, the stuff with Buffy and Kira happened a while ago. And Cyrus isn’t the kind to hold a grudge.” He presses his lips together, recalling the sight of Cyrus walking away from him and Kira without so much as a second glance. “But if there’s something going on, why would he come to my house?”

His mom lifts a shoulder. “Maybe he wanted to hang out, just the two of you?”

“But I text him to meet me in the park the other day, and he completely ignored me! How am I supposed to keep up with all these mixed signals?”

“Were you _alone_ in the park?”

“I –” He freezes, an image of him and Kira laughing on the swings flashing before his eyes. For some reason, it makes him feel dirty, like he’d somehow cheated on Cyrus by going on the swings with anyone but him. “I was with Kira.”

His mom tilts her head forward, shooting him a withering look. “Well, there you go.”

“But… I don’t understand what he has against her?”

“Have you considered the possibility that he might be a little bit jealous?”

TJ wrinkles his nose, practically giving his mom a double take. “Why would Cyrus be jealous of Kira? He’s my best friend. She’s just some girl I hang out with sometimes. They don’t even compare!” He huffs, feeling his frustration quickly rising. “He has absolutely _nothing_ to be jealous of.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know that?”

“What? How could he _not_ know that?” He scoffs, his thoughts turning cloudy with confusion. He’s stuck on the insane idea that Cyrus possibly doesn’t understand how important he is to him, or how he cares about him more than anyone (besides his mom, of course) on the entire planet. “Cyrus is… I mean, he’s… God, mom, he’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met! He’s kind and funny and a total _nerd_ and –” He cuts himself off, a furious blush burning his cheeks as he realises what he’s saying. Out loud. _To his mom_.

“He’s my best friend,” he concludes quietly, turning away from his mom’s penetrating smile.

A moment of silence passes, the ghost of his words still fluttering in the air. TJ deliberately clears his throat and goes back to peeling potatoes. He can feel his mom’s eyes on the side of his face, quietly studying his profile with that wise, all-knowing expression she wears sometimes, usually when she’s sussing him out. She really was right about the whole ‘reading him like a book’ thing; he’s never been able to keep stuff from her for too long.

“He sounds like a very good friend,” she says eventually, her words incredibly soft.

TJ exhales a long, shaky breath, letting a potato roll out of his hand as he slumps against the counter. “Yeah, he is,” he whispers numbly. It feels like a confession. “He’s the best.”

“Have you ever told him that?”

“Huh?”

“Have you ever told him how you feel?” At his responding flinch, she rewords the question. “Have you ever told him how important he is to you?”

TJ stares down at his hands, absently picking at a loose piece of skin on the pad of his thumb. He must’ve caught it on the peeler after all. He squeezes it until it stings, watching a bead of blood roll down his wrist, then drops his forehead against his arm. When did his life become so messy? He doesn’t feel equipped to deal with all of these perplexing emotions.

“I thought he already knew,” he says, lifting his head to meet his mom’s eyes. “How could he not?”

His mom reaches across the counter and grabs both of his hands in her own. Her messy ponytail is spraying wisps of straw-coloured hair all over her face, clinging to the corners of her mouth and falling across her ocean-green eyes. When it comes to his looks, TJ takes after his mom in every regard. From their soft colours, to their gangly limbs, to their lightly-freckled skin; there isn’t a speck of his absent father to be seen in him, and TJ wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Maybe he needs a little persuasion,” his mom suggests, giving his hands a quick squeeze. “It wouldn’t hurt to put your feelings into words, would it? Let him know how special he is to you.”

TJ swallows roughly. “Mom, I…”

“It’s okay, baby.”

“I’m scared.”

“Of course you are.”

“I feel stupid,” he says, laughing wetly as he wipes an arm across his eyes. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing,” his mom says, not an ounce of reluctance in her words. She sounds exactly like Cyrus, which makes his heart clench with longing. “There is nothing wrong with you, do you hear me?”

He nods. “Yeah, mom. I hear you.”

“Good.”

“There’s stuff I wanna tell you, I just…” He trails off, his stomach doing that weird drop-in-the-elevator thing as he stares down at their joined hands. He knows his mom will love and support him no matter what, but now doesn’t feel like the right time for that particular conversation just yet. Maybe he needs to figure things out for himself first.

“Hey.” His mom taps the bottom of his chin, motioning for him to look back up at her. As soon as their eyes meet, he relaxes. “I know, baby. And when you’re ready, you can tell me all about it.”

TJ smiles. “Thanks, mom.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“But, what about Cyrus? How do I fix things?”

“You want my honest opinion?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow. “Talk to him. It may seem amateur, but that’s what you’ve gotta do. Talk to him, and tell him the truth. As much as you’re willing to give, at least.”

TJ considers this for a moment, mulling the possible outcomes over in his head. On the one hand, Cyrus could turn him down. He’d be undoubtedly nice about it; things would be awkward for a few weeks, then TJ would slowly start to move on, and they could go back to being friends again. Things could certainly be worse. But on the other hand…

“I don’t wanna lose him,” he says, giving his mom’s hands a desperate squeeze as a wave of raw panic washes over him. “I can’t, mom.”

“You won’t,” she tells him, sounding unshakeably sure of the fact.

“How do you know?”

“You care about each other. That much is clear. And as long as you stop running from those feelings, and start being open with each other, that’s never gonna change.” She leans forward and pinches the bridge of his nose, just like she always used to do when he was little. “Now… Go call him.”

TJ hesitates. “But, the cooking –”

“I’m giving you the night off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She shakes her head fondly, her hands returned to their usual position on her hips. When she reaches up to kiss his cheek, TJ remembers how much taller he is than her now, and his heart pinches with a sad kind of nostalgia. It’s been just him and her for so long, but now things are slowly starting to change… And here she is, telling him it’s okay. Always putting him first.

“I love you, mom,” he says, not even caring how lame he sounds.

His mom beams up at him with wide, glistening eyes. “I love you too, baby. Now go make that damn call.”

TJ grins. “Okay.”

He’s halfway up the stairs when he hears the radio being turned up again, more of that tinny jazz music drifting down the hallway, carrying the soft hum of his mom’s voice all the way to his bedroom. Even when he’s sitting on his bed, his thumb hovering over Cyrus’ number on his phone, he can hear the staticky sound of Frank Sinatra gushing about the stars. He takes a deep breath, grounded by the sounds of normalcy slipping beneath his bedroom door, and makes the call. 

Cyrus answers on the first ring. 


End file.
